


Party Trick

by blackrabbit42



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Boys Kissing, M/M, Poker, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, Sexual Experimentation, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28591512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrabbit42/pseuds/blackrabbit42
Summary: Maybe the parties are too crowded and everyone’s too drunk to notice. But Jared feels it; Jensen gets hard. Every time.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 17
Kudos: 85





	Party Trick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tebtosca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tebtosca/gifts).



> Cross posted from LJ- an old story written for tebtosca

The first time it happens, it’s on a dare. Phi Mu Delta is throwing an end of the semester party, and Jared stands by a truth-or-dare game, just minding his own business… well, ok. Maybe he lingers by the game because Jensen is playing and Genevieve Cortese is calling the shots and at the last party, she’d dared some guy to take it out and let them measure it, and damned if she didn’t have a little fabric tape measure in her pocket, and damned if the guy didn’t let her do it. Ok, so maybe he would have been lingering nearby Jensen even if there wasn’t a truth-or-dare game going on because Jensen was basically perfect, and nearly too beautiful to look at, and this one time when it was raining out, Jared had dropped his books and Jensen had run across the campus green to help him pick them up out of the mud and looked Jared directly in the eyes and smiled. It’s hopeless, really, because Jensen is a senior, and straight, while Jared is just a pathetic freshman trying to find his place and definitely not straight. So yeah, there’s no chance, but he can’t help himself.  
  
In any case, when it comes around to Jensen’s turn, and he chooses “dare”, Jared’s skin does a full-body flush, every nerve standing at attention. He concentrates on acting casual while straining to hear what Genevieve comes up with.  
  
“Kiss a dude,” Genevieve says, a wicked grin twisting her lips.  
  
Jared thinks he might faint. Like, literally, actually pass out from lack of blood to his brain. Hopes it’s not too obvious how he straightens up and inches a little to the left to put himself in Jensen’s line of sight.  
  
“Hey, Padalecki, c’mere.”  
  
The girls in the vicinity all start squealing. Out of the corner of his eye, Jared sees Genevieve clench her thighs together, no lie.  
  
It’s possible that Jared pulls off looking surprised and innocent, like he has no idea what’s going on, but it's not probable. He doesn’t care though, because before he knows it, one of Jensen’s hands is snaking around the back of his neck and Jensen is closing in on him, pausing only for a second to ask, “you cool with this, dude?” before pressing his lips to Jared’s.  
  
Jared is cool with it.  
  
++++++++  
  
The second time it happens, it’s at Chad Michael Murray's party. Jared’s not sure how he ended up in this poker game, because the stakes are way, way too high, but he’s struggling along to stay at the table because Jensen just happens to be sitting to his right.  
  
Jared’s dealing Texas Hold ‘Em, and this hand is down to Jensen and Chris Kane. Jensen really, really hates Chris Kane, and there are close to four thousand dollars down on the table with a king, a two, and two aces showing. Kane is all in, and he’s got a smug look on his face that’s begging to be wiped off with somebody’s fist. Jensen is quiet. In fact, the whole room is quiet, something that nearly never happens at Chad’s parties.  
  
Jared studies the table. Chris probably has at least one ace in his hand if that smug look is anything to go by. If he has two, there’s probably nothing Jensen could have to beat it. Nothing really, unless…  
  
He turns over the right jack, and Jensen just explodes. He throws a ten and a queen on the table, leaps up, and kisses Jared full on the lips in front of everybody. It’s a kiss that starts out as a joke but doesn’t end that way. For a straight guy, Jensen really kisses very, very well.  
  
Later, after Chris storms out of the room, Jared sees that he did indeed, have two aces.  
  
++++++++  
  
It gets to be a thing. The saying around campus that spring is “It’s not a party until Padalecki and Ackles kiss.” People egg them on, and if Jensen is drunk enough, he’ll do it.  
  
Jared thinks it’s because the chicks go freaking mental for it. Jared’s not sure why it gets them hot, but it does. He knows that Jensen’s gotten laid more than once because of it. But Jared knows a secret—it’s not only the girls who think it’s hot. Maybe the parties are too crowded and everyone’s too drunk to notice. But Jared feels it; Jensen gets hard. Every time.  
  
++++++++  
  
“It’s killing me, Misha. Literally kill—”  
  
“That’s a misuse of the word ‘literally’. When you say something is ‘literally’ killing you, it means that it is actually, in fact, truly killing you and—”  
  
“Misha, please put your autism on hold for one moment, will you? It’s a damn figure of speech. It would be completely lame to say that kissing Jensen at parties is figuratively killing me. Can you please just let me have my little breakdown here? Because I. Am. Literally. Dying. Here. I’m serious.”  
  
Jared flops on Misha’s bed, is completely taken off guard when it turns out to be a water mattress, flounders a bit to get upright again, and fixes Misha with an imploring stare. “You’ve got to help me. It’s getting so I almost don’t want to go to parties anymore.”  
  
Misha raises an eyebrow at him.  
  
“I said ‘almost’. I can’t stay away.”  
  
“It seems to me as if Jensen isn’t exactly avoiding parties either.” Misha holds up two different sweaters. “Debate club, Thursday. Five-button cardigan or argyle v-neck?”  
  
“Cardigan. He’s getting off on it too. I know he is. He’s hard as a fucking rock up against my leg. And I’m sorry, once or twice, you can kiss like that and fake it, but not time after time. If he wasn’t into it, he wouldn’t still be kissing like he does.”  
  
“You sure? Because I think the argyle accentuates the color of my eyes. Never underestimate the power of a good stare-down in debate club.”  
  
“Are you even listening Misha? Because seriously, my dick is going to fall off if I don’t do something about this situation.”  
  
“I doubt that.”  
  
Jared flops back on the bed. Sometimes Misha’s straight-forward, literal thinking can really help him sort through his problems. Other times, it’s like asking a fish what sunshine smells like.  
  
“But I am listening to you,” Misha continues. “The fact that these events occur when Jensen is somewhat inebriated, yet not so much as to interfere with penile erection indicates that he may be interested in exploring alternate sexual possibilities, but lacks the confidence to initiate such explorations on his own. The solution would be to engage him in a situation in which he is absolved of responsibility for his decisions, and encourage him to act upon his hidden inclinations.”  
  
“In English, please.”  
  
“I believe in the fifties they called it ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven.’”  
  
++++++++  
  
Thankfully, Misha and the debate team win on Thursday, so Misha’s inclined to celebrate that weekend, and Jared doesn’t have to wait long for them to set their plan in motion. Misha throws a “games night” themed party, complete with Twister, strip-charades, and some weird kind of hula-hoop challenge that involves jello, cheerleaders, and a gallon-sized jug of maraschino cherries.  
  
They’d already sent several couples into the closet for their seven minutes, and a few of them took more than their fair share of time, so Jared's feeling antsy and impatient, but he trusts Misha, who is a brilliant strategist. He’s still not sure exactly how Misha is going to pull this off, because Misha put two accounting majors in charge of drawing the names, and they don’t look like the types who would be in on any sort of shenanigans. All Misha will tell him is that he had asked and Jensen agreed to be the designated driver for the night. Which of course, just makes Jared love him more. What sets Jensen apart from any other good looking dude is that he’s nice. Nice in a way that would make a Texas mama proud to call him her son. Nice in a way that Jared can see himself wanting to be a part of.  
  
The party is loud, and Jared almost misses it when one of the accounting majors calls his name No one else pays much attention. All of a sudden, a cold dread steals over him. Misha is nowhere to be seen, and Misha’s other henchman is holding the bag with all the girl's names in it. Fuck, he’s never kissed a girl before, and he definitely doesn’t plan on doing it tonight, and why the hell had he ever agreed to let Misha talk him into this, and ohmygod what the hell is he going to do in a closet for seven minutes with a girl?  
  
His stomach in knots, Jared watches as accounting major number two reaches into the bag, pulls out a name, and frowns when he sees what’s written there. A girl standing next to him peeks, and her eyebrows arch as she screeches out, “Oh. My. God.” Her lips peel back in a shameless smirk. “Jensen. Fucking. Ackles!”  
  
The shrieking is deafening. A few girls run out of the room and come back in, dragging their half-drunk friends wobbling on platform heels. Jared doesn’t have to fake looking surprised, because somehow, he genuinely is, and his cheeks burn hot as he realizes all eyes are on him.  
  
The genius accountant-to-be is a little slow on the uptake. “There must be some mistake,” he mutters apologetically. “I don’t know how his name got in this bag. I’ll just draw anoth—”  
  
“I’ll do it.”  
  
The crowd parts like the Red Sea and Jensen walks into the room. “That is,” he amends, “if Padalecki is up for it.”  
  
Jared has no idea how Jensen gets away with looking so completely unruffled. Because Jared had been in on this. Jared knew this was coming. Jared’s the one who wanted this, schemed for it to happen. And he feels as nervous as a virgin at a prison rodeo.  
  
Before he knows it, he’s in the closet. In the dark. With Jensen. And even though they’ve kissed eleven times before tonight, (what? So sue him, he keeps count) this is the first time it’s felt real. For one thing, Jensen isn’t drunk. According to Misha, Jensen hasn’t had a drop to drink all night. For another, this is the first time that no one is watching. They can stand here in the dark twiddling their thumbs for seven minutes, and when they walk out, no one will be the wiser.  
  
If Jensen kisses him, it means something this time.  
  
“Did you plan this?” Jensen asks him in the dark, and amazingly, miraculously, Jared feels Jensen’s hand reach out and rest lightly on his hip. “Or did someone else try to punk us?”  
  
“You don’t have to—” Jared stammers. Suddenly, he feels bad for setting Jensen up like this.  
  
“I know,” Jensen answers. Jensen’s thumb rubs down over the front of Jared’s jeans and his fingers curl around to the back, pull Jared closer. Then everything is Jensen. Jared can smell Jensen’s hair as it tickles his cheek, it smells like baby shampoo for men. He can hear Jensen’s breaths in the dark, slow and steady, warm on Jared’s neck.  
  
“I set it up,” Jared blurts. Because damned if Jensen isn’t going to go for it, and if Jared only gets one chance at this, he’s not going to fuck it up with a lie, or even an omission of truth. “I mean, I asked Misha to set it up. I’m sorry, it was a dick thing to do, put you on the spot like that.”  
  
Jensen doesn’t pull away. “Those girls out there think it’s hot,” Jensen says, his voice husky, and nervous in a way that Jared would have never suspected of him. Jensen clears his throat. “They’re not the only ones.”  
  
Then he’s kissing Jared. It’s different. Slower. Hotter. It isn’t for show this time, and Jensen takes his time, his fingers threading through the hair at the back of Jared’s neck, his lips slotted over Jared’s, warm and searching before they open slightly and the tip of Jensen’s tongue teases its way into Jared’s mouth. Hours' worth of nervous tension melts away off Jared’s shoulders and he dares to snake his hands around Jensen’s waist and open up to Jensen.  
  
It grows into something desperate and urgent. Jared is keenly aware of the noise on the other side of the door and the fact that their moments in here are limited. He wants way more that what he’s being allowed here; he wants there to be an after, but he sure as fuck isn’t going to put on the brakes and start trying to nail Jensen down. Jensen’s body is hot and real and firm, right up against his, and he just wants to permanently etch the feeling of that body into his memory, soak up the sense of it.  
  
When Jensen pulls back, he takes Jared’s hand off his waist, guides it down around front. “Can you?” he asks.  
  
Jared’s felt Jensen’s erection up against his hip before, but this is different, he can’t help but press his palm up against it, curl his fingers around it as much as Jensen’s tight blue jeans will let him. Jensen moans and Jared feels him drop his head back.  
  
“No.” Jared whispers, surprising even himself. He’d sort of had this feeling nagging at the back of his mind, but hadn’t really examined it, so it had no business coming out of his damn mouth and saying “no” to Jensen. And yet, suddenly, he realizes this is the way it has to go. The only way he can walk out of this closet with any self-respect.  
  
Jensen hasn’t said anything like he knows Jared has something to say, and he’s just waiting. Patiently. He hasn’t let go of Jared’s wrist.  
  
“It needs to be you,” Jared says, digging really deep for conviction that he doesn’t really feel. Because truth be told, if Jensen doesn’t go for this, screw his dignity and self-respect, he’ll do whatever Jensen wants.  
  
He takes his hand off Jensen’s hard-on and puts it on his chest instead. “Some guys,” he says, “some guys get off on a gay guy, um, doing stuff to them. Like it’s a kink. But that’s not what I want with you. If you’re into this, I need to know you’re in all the way With me. Do you get what I mean?”  
  
Jensen is completely still for a moment, then reaches behind Jared to lock the door. “Yeah,” he says, completely ignoring the deafening cheer from the party on the other side. “I get it. I just… I don’t know what to do.”  
  
“I’ll help you,” Jared says. He finds Jensen’s waist and pulls them back together. “It’s nothing crazy,” he whispers into Jensen’s ear. “I don’t even mean we have to do anything now, tonight.” He kisses Jensen’s neck, just below and behind his ear. “Just do what you feel like.”  
  
Beneath Jared’s lips, Jensen’s throat works around a swallow, then he puts both hands on Jared’s face and kisses him again. Jensen runs one hand down to the small of Jared’s back and pulls him hard up against him; Jensen’s back hits the door and it rattles loudly. More cheers from the outside.  
  
Seriously, there must be some sort of minor god in charge of not coming in your pants and Jared must have done something to please him along the way, because it’s a miracle that he’s able to get himself under control. He’s achingly hard, and Jensen is doing this obscene grind up against him, and it doesn’t seem like either of them can breathe, and Jensen is pulling out all the stops on his kissing game, and just, damn.  
  
Then things start to get really shaky because Jensen is kissing his way down Jared’s chest and sinking to his knees. One hand cups around Jared’s cock, and Jared can feel it trembling through the denim. The other hand fumbles with the button on Jared’s fly.  
  
“You don’t have t—“  
  
“I already said, "I know'." Jensen curls his fingers under the waist of Jared’s jeans and shimmies them down several inches. Then his mouth is exploring the length of Jared’s cock through the fabric of his boxer briefs, sucking at the damp spot near the top. “I just figure, I should do what I would want you to do to me, right?”  
  
Jared hopes the strangled noise he makes is enough of an answer for Jensen because he doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together at this point, and also, something’s gone wrong with his cardiovascular system, because his heart is flailing around like a rabbit on crack and his lungs promptly stopped working approximately around the time that Jensen’s knees touched the floor.  
  
Jensen seems to get the message and reaches his hand into Jared’s boxers. His fingers are cool as they snake down the length of his erection and work it free.  
  
“Nice,” he says under his breath, and Jared isn’t sure that he was meant to hear the compliment, but he appreciates it anyway. “This okay?” Jensen says, a little louder this time as he strokes slowly, fingers just barely skimming over the surface of Jared’s hot, taut skin.  
  
Yeah, no words are going to make it out of Jared’s throat. So he takes his hand and places it over Jensen’s, squeezes a little. Jensen complies and tightens his grip. Leaning back, Jared is relieved to feel his back hit a shelf or something similarly sturdy because he’s going to need some extra help remaining upright here. He wishes like hell that there's some sort of casual way that he can reach up and pull the string for the light without waving his arm around in the dark like a drunk. On the other hand, nearly every other wish he’s ever had is about to be fulfilled, so he’s not going to complain.  
  
He lets go of Jensen’s hand once he’s got it exactly perfect, just the right amount of pressure, slow enough to drag it out at least a little, skittering over that knife’s edge between wanting to make it last and the overwhelming urge to come. He’s definitely not going to be breaking any records for endurance tonight.  
  
Then he hears Jensen swallowing, maybe a little nervously, and licking his lips. Fuck, he cannot handle this. If he feels Jensen’s mouth on his— and there it is. Yup. Hot. Wet. Slightly awkward and toothy but—  
  
“Jensen, you gotta stop, I’m going to—“  
  
Jensen just holds on harder and opens wider. Curls his tongue around the underside of Jared’s and pulls him in deeper. His whole body jerks slightly when he gags on Jared’s cock touching the back of his throat, but he doesn’t pull away. To the contrary, his fingers dig into the meat of Jared’s ass and hold him there.  
  
Jared hopes there’s some part of him that’s being considerate because the rest of him couldn’t hold back even if he tried. His knees have gone loose while the rest of him locks rigid and he comes, if not exactly straight down the back of Jensen’s throat, then at the very least filling his mouth. Jensen is gagging, but he won’t let go. The noises Jared makes are just indiscriminate begging, some kind of cross between, Jesus, don’t hurt yourself there, Jensen, and please, please don’t ever stop what you’re making me feel right now.  
  
His legs don’t last through the whole thing. He’s still coming as he wilts down to his knees, and Jared shoots one last hot streak across Jensen’s chin before collapsing against Jensen’s chest.  
  
The noise of the party continues outside as Jared’s scattered wits slowly come back together. Jensen just waits for him, holding him loosely in his arms, nuzzling behind his ear. Whispers, “Hey, was that good?”  
  
Jared finds the strength in himself somewhere to nod. “How many minutes do you think we have left?” he asks, “I forgot there for a moment where we are. I can—“  
  
Jensen laughs. “Trust me,” he says, gently pushing away Jared’s searching hand. “It would be seconds, not minutes. But if you want to reciprocate, let’s find a place where we can take our time.” He stands and pulls Jared up with him.  
  
The string for the light bulb magically obeys Jared’s will and places itself neatly in the center of Jared’s palm when he reaches up. In the dim yellow light that illuminates the closet, Jensen looks completely indecent, hair tousled, lips raw and red. Jared imagines he’s probably wearing a grin that says, “I just got my cock sucked by Jensen Ackles.”  
  
“How are we going to…” he gestures toward the door.  
  
“Just walk out the door, and keep on walking,” Jensen answers. “I’m not ashamed, we’ll figure it out as we go along, right?”  
  
Jared holds the door open and makes a sincere effort to wipe the two million-watt grin off his face. “After you.”


End file.
